Just Choreography
by singingstarryknights
Summary: The only way to verify the blood spatter patterns, is to reenact the crime. SaraGreg. Part of the First Kiss Series.


Just Choreography

…

Sara and Greg, finding testimony from a wife suspected of stabbing her husband, find themselves in a number of interesting situations as they reenact the attack to check blood spatter patterns.

………

"Good job on the bedroom, Greg." Sara stood at the door of the garage, surveying Greg's recreation of the primary scene in the Byron case. "According to Jane Byron's account, there shouldn't have been cast off along the wall near the end table." Sara entered the room fully, and nodded toward the crime scene photos of the blood evidence.

"And according to Frank Byron, Jane stabbed him three times more than she said, as well." Greg handed Sara the autopsy report, which she flipped through.

"So what are we doing transforming the garage into the Byron's bedroom?"

"Want to play house?" Greg flashed a grin at her, grabbing the casefile off a box he was using as one of the Byron's nightstands.

"Recreate the crime."

"Yeah, I figure we lay down the choreography according to the testimony, and see if it matches up with the blood spatter and cast off."

"Alright." She arched an eyebrow at him. "You've read through the account, right?" Greg rolled his eyes at her, grinning.

"I'm not that much of an idiot, Sara, yes I read Jane Byron's account."

"I'm not stripping down."

"I'm not asking you to."

"Okay." Sara scanned through the beginning of Mrs. Byron's testimony. "Jane Byron entered the bedroom to find Frank Byron asleep on their bed." She indicated towards the lab mattress. "Get on the bed, Sanders."

"I love it when you boss me around." He smiled broadly at her quickly before becoming serious again, squinting at the report in his hand. She returned his smile, and sighed.

"Alright. Jane Bryon said she went to the bedroom Monday night to surprise her husband with new lingerie, with hopes of seducing him." Sara came to stand at the edge of the mattress, near Greg's feet.

"Mr. Byron was asleep on his back." Greg recounted, lying back flat, head on a pillow. He took the case file from Sara, and laid it out on the mattress beside his hip.

"Mrs. Byron said she climbed on top of him from the foot of the bed." Sara climbed over Greg's legs, and straddled his hips, attention on the case file. Greg bit his lip, trying to push away the half dozen dirty thoughts that entered his mind as her weight settled over his pelvis. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He looked back up at her, surprised to see her staring at him expectantly. Oh right, it was his move.

"Frank was all about it, and flipped her over." Greg caught Sara off guard, landing her roughly on her back in one fluid motion. He leaned over her on his hands, pressing his hips against her intimately. "And sex."

"Roughly." Sara arched an eyebrow at him suggestively, and there was a sparkle in Greg's eyes that she had only seen a handful of times before. She bit her lip in an attempt to stifle the moan that hitched in her throat. Thinking of Greg against her without the dark blue 'forensics' jumpsuit was not going to help reenact blood spatter from the Byron bedroom. Greg. Bedroom. Oh god.

"Mr. Byron would have had to held on to the headboard, this is a terrible angle." Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice, bringing her focus back on the case. Greg's expression had become serious again, and he reached over Sara's head, gaining leverage, and in the process, pressing into her more evenly than before, sending a shot of uncomfortable heat below her waist. "Way better." He raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for her to move. Whoa, Mr. Sanders, two could play at that game.

"Wait a sec, where's the file?" Sara sat up, hooking her leg around the back of his thigh, and reaching around him to retrieve the file. She suppressed a smirk as she heard him inhale sharply, and didn't lie back down right away, consulting the documentation. "Oh, we can't do this." She peered at the testimony. "Actually, you can't do this. You can't do that." She held the file out to Greg, and he sat back on the mattress, scanning the documentation. His eyes found the passage she was referring to, and he grinned.

"Is that a dare, Sidle?" Greg flashed his eyes over her body, instantly becoming focused on the task at hand. He leaned over to the other side of the mattress, surveying the distances he would need to cover. "Ok. Trust me?"

"Unfortunately." Sara laid back, watching as Greg leaned back over her again, hand finding the headboard.

"Jane Byron had bruising along her thigh and hip, right?"

"Yeah, light bruising, but in suspicious patterns." Greg craned his neck to see the photo of the bruise pattern he had hung on the corkboard just beyond Jane Byron's full-length stand-alone mirror.

"He grabbed her. He started it."

"What? How do you know that?"

"He probably pushed in to the hilt, pulling her down against him, and to do that, he would have pulled along here." Greg slid his hand along her thigh. "But what cause the string of bruising was him rolling off the bed, pulling her with him." Before Sara could register his hypothesis, he had slipped his hand from her thigh to her hip, and pulling her over on her side. He rolled on his back, hand holding her against him, and, with one last pull, they toppled to the floor, rolling again so Greg was hovering over her once again.

"Ooof."

"You ok?" Greg cracked a trace of a warm smile down at her, and she returns it.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"So."

"They continued on the floor." Sara turned her gaze away from his; nodding toward the case file they had rolled over, still perched on the bed. Greg broke the intimate contact they had held since he had flipped her over, and Sara frowned at the loss as he reached up to gather the case file, cradling the testimony in his hands. Sara sat up, reading the file upside down. "How, did they end up against the wall?"

"That was the first stab, against the wall, she must have grabbed the letter opener from the night stand." Greg squinted in thought, surveying the piece of furniture from the bedroom, currently standing against the wall, a foot or so away from where Sara's head had landed. "How much do you weigh?"

"You're not seriously asking me that."

"Nah, I can do it, nevermind." Greg's eyes swept over the space above the night stand. He pinned her to the wall on the other side of the night stand, cast off across, chest high, up to down, toward the bed."

"Good. So how did they get there?" That uncomfortable heat returned the second he grinned devilishly at her, before squinting at the photos of Jane Byron's legs.

"She had bruising on the inside of her knees."

"Yeah, and?" Greg turned back to her, eyes focused on her legs.

"And bruising like that could have come from her knees against his hips. Here." He laid a hand steadily on her knee. "Let's pick this up where we left off." She smiled at the determination in his eyes, and the serious tone of his voice. Maybe she secretly liked being bossed around like this. The commanding, focused quality of his voice did nothing to cool the heat below her waist.

"Vic had small, superficial contusions on the left side of his neck."

"Nail marks, from Mrs. Byron's left hand, holding on to him."

"How did you know that?"

"The emotions of sex, Sara, are passion, desire, sometimes love." His features softened for a split second, and Sara fought the almost uncontrollable urge to kiss him right there on the floor of the garage. "But the physics, the physics are all about leverage. Trust me. I won't hurt you." Sara suppressed a smile, and placed her left hand around Greg's neck, roughly where the contusions were found on Frank Byron's body.

"Okay, Genius. Pin me against the wall." He chuckled, a low throaty laugh that made her shiver.

"I really love it when you boss me around." Greg closed his eyes, relaxing for a moment, before slipping an arm around Sara's waist, countering hers around his neck, and pushing himself up, leaning on the corner of the night stand, bringing Sara with him. She wrapped her legs around his hips to hold on, and he spun around, avoiding the night stand, and slamming her against the wall, an arm's reach from where Jane Byron had said the letter opener was lying on the table's surface.

"Ouch." Sara winced because of the dull thud of her back against the wall, and the pressure she felt having her lower torso pinned between a wall and Greg's hips. The corner of his lip curled into a smile, and he nodded toward top of the night stand.

"The letter opener was within reach if he pinned her here."

"Yeah." Sara's eyes darted from his to his lips, and back. There were only two or three inches between them. Her fingers had found their way to the nape of his neck, gently tickled by the soft waves his hair fell in. He watched her expression transition back into work mode suddenly, from the softened demeanor it had moments before. "That's how Mr. Byron got the superficial contusions." She leaned over to grab the bar they were using as the letter opener, and he instinctively pressed her harder into the wall to keep her from falling.

"Ah. Jeez, Sara." He frowned as her nails left similar contusions on his neck as that of Frank Byron's.

"Sorry. Leverage."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't stab me." Her chuckle at his humor shot through him, pushing his resolve to its limit. At first he had thought that coming in to work today was the best thing he had done in his life, he got to simulate sex with Sara, in the middle of the lab, and no one bothered them. Now, however, having spent a considerable amount of time with his hips between her thighs, he was beginning to have second thoughts. They were at work, after all. And in the reality of this session, he was playing the victim. Greg wasn't completely sure he wasn't going to die, too. She twisted in his grasp, and he leaned his head on the wall above her shoulder, battling arousal, and mostly winning. And they weren't even up to the first stab yet. Oh god. This was a horrible idea. Sara pulled herself back upright, holding the bar in her right hand.

"Jane would have caught her hand on the sharp end of this, explains the laceration on her palm." Greg nodded, shifting her weight carefully. "You ok? We can resimulate if you need a break."

"No, I'm fine. We're going to move in a minute anyway." He peered at the document, reading the next few lines of the transcript of Jane's account. "He backed away, pulling out, when she stabbed him." Greg released his hold on her thigh, and backed away abruptly, causing her to fall from where she had been pinned, to her feet.

"Wait. Let's mark it." Sara held out a hand, for him to freeze, and quickly retrieved a few stick mark pads from the other side of the garage. She peeled off the back of one, and pressed it to his side, the most natural location for a swift surprise stab. She took up her spot against the wall. "Now what?"

"She said he lunged for her." Greg closed the distance between them, grabbing the bar. "Lacerations of his hands."

"Documented in the autopsy report." Sara paused, a far away expression, steeping in thought. "Wait. Mr. Byron's blood was found on the stand-alone mirror. How do we get there?" Sara fell out of position, standing with her hands on her hips, features twisted into determined concentration.

"Wait, we got blood on which side, exactly?"

"The side facing us, across the ridging of the top." Sara cocked an eyebrow at him as he, too, fell out of his position, and walked over to the mirror, inspecting the blood stains.

"Aha. Helps if the mirror is turned the right way." Greg reached up, and pulled the top of the mirror down, swinging the bottom up on its axis. "The top of this mirror had to be tilted, judging by the trauma to Frankie's head and the patter on this mirror, she must have gotten him backed up near it, injured him so he fell to the ground-"

"Possible second and third stabbings."

"And swung the top of the mirror down on him to knock him out."

"Passion is as easily birthed from rage as it is from love."

"I'm guessing there was a fine line between the two for Mr. and Mrs. Byron."

"So are we going to choreograph the rest, or speculate about the spatter?"

"No, something isn't right. Let's dance, shall we?" He flashed her a grin, and she smirked at his enthusiasm, as they both took their places. "So you stabbed me."

"And you lunged at me, grabbing at the weapon."

"Let's duke this out." Greg wrapped his hand around the bar.

"Good idea." Sara pushed Greg away, sending him reeling. "She said she fought back."

"Defensive wounds. And non bloodied trauma to the crown of Frank's skull." Greg stopped her, grabbing a thin mat, and placing it behind him. "She knocked him over." Sara made for him, knocking Greg back flat on his back, and landing on top of him, straddling his waist again.

"Perfect angle for the right side pulmonary trauma." Sara made a stabbing motion, then peeled off the back of a marker, placing it on the right side of his chest. She glanced around at their positions. "She had to have been straddling him, there was a void on his shirt, and on the floor."

"We need to double check the blood on her clothes."

"Greg." Sara knitted her brow together, in thought. "That fine line? What if they crossed it again?"

"Sex, stabbing, sex again?" Greg couldn't hide the laugh in his voice.

"Takes 'rough' to a whole new level." She leaned over him, pressing against his hips gently. For a mere second, there was a flash of some sort of smoldering desire behind her irises, but before Greg could act on it, she grinned excitedly at him. "Flip me."

"What?"

"Flip me so I'm under the mirror." Greg glanced at the mirror, few feet to his right.

"I'd hit my head on the ridge myself, causing a laceration on the front of the cranium, rather than the back.

"Not if I was kissing you."

"I hardly think Mr. Byron would be making out with his attacker as he bled out all over the carpet."

"Jane said he liked it rough and had an obscenely high tolerance for pain."

"Right."

"Flip me, Sanders." The combination of sparkle in her eye and their once again intimate contact proved to be almost too much for him, and he closed his eyes, relaxing against the cool cement floor of the garage, tapping into his instincts. The ones that weren't focusing on taking her right there in the garage of the lab.

In one fluid motion, Greg sat up, and pulled her toward him, pressing his lips against hers roughly. Taking her by surprise, he was able to flip her easily onto her back, pressing her flat into the cement floor, and making it under the bottom slant of the mirror. He pulled away only inches, leaning over her on his elbows, his hips ground roughly against the insides of her thighs. She didn't speak, he figured because she didn't know what to make of that, or she didn't want him like he wanted her. He found himself distracted totally from their reenactment of the bedroom events, instead focusing on not showing his heart shattering into a thousand pieces as she stared back up at him with a critical eye. Say something, Sanders. Break the silence.

"Made it under the mirror, unscathed." Her features broke into a warm grin, and she reached up to grab the bottom of the swivel mirror, and brought it down to touch the back of Greg's head.

"She swung the mirror down from here, knocked him out."

"He bled all over her."

"She stabbed him once more from the back for insurance."

"Explains the drops and the voids."

"Mrs. Byron was lying about the stabs after the one against the wall."

"We going to talk about how we ended up here, or ignore it?"

"The part where you turned me on or the part where you kissed me or the part where you bossed me around?" She smiled gently at him, and his smile broadened.

"Which ever." She tangled her fingers in his disheveled hair, and pulled him to her, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. Instantly the case was forgotten, as his senses took over, he ground her into the cement slowly, and she moaned softly into his mouth. She wrapped a leg around him and he had a fleeting thought that he was going to die, if not from the euphoria of kissing Sara Sidle, from the pain and torture delivered by Nick or Warrick for kissing Sara Sidle. Either way, she was going to be the death of him, and that turned him on even more. He felt her arch into him ever so subtly, and tighten her thigh against his side. Oh god. He was going to die.

Sara had been too shocked when he had sat up and kissed her to notice the dull pain she was starting to get along her spine from being pushed up against things, mattresses, walls, cement floors. But the throb along her spine had nothing on the dull throb caused by the friction of having Greg's hips between her thighs for most of this experiment, which had nothing on the sharp jabbing and twisting in her heart. She failed to catch herself from whimpering softly as he pulled away from her, propping himself back up on his elbows.

"Well this was worth the pay cut from DNA." His attempt at a joke elicited a grin from her, and she laughed as she felt his low chuckle rumble through her.

"We're going to be ok, Greg."

"I would love this." He gestured between the two of them. "I would really love for you to be in this part of my life." His grin faded somewhat, and his expression became halfway serious.

"I'd like that."

………

A/N:

I think this will be a collection of first kiss scenarios … (another series? I'm nuts.) … unrelated, no order, just out there. First kisses are my favorite to write, so I thought maybe I'd write a bunch of them. Meh, why not. :grins madly: (and I really wanted to get Greg to slam Sara up against a wall) still working on ducks… lost my muse… hope this and it's companion, "just coffee" tide you over for fluff. Thanks for reading. Drop me a line if you're so inclined.


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